


Something I Might Find In You

by petershorcrux



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Body Worship, Budding Love, Chris eats pasta while he fingers Stiles, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Future Fic, Kitchen Sex, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Post-Series, Rare Pairings, Stiles is Not a Virgin, ish, mouthy stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petershorcrux/pseuds/petershorcrux
Summary: It may be something that never should have happened, but they're both grateful that it did.





	

**Author's Note:**

> well this happened.
> 
> if there's anything else i should tag in this, please tell me. it feels so weird to not have a wall of tags this time around.

Stiles is completely aware of the fact that what he’s doing is wrong. Doing anything sexual with one of your _dead_ closest friend’s parent most definitely wouldn’t win him any friendship awards. But damn if he wouldn’t say it was worth it when he was in the middle of doing anything with Chris.

That may have been a bad thing. It may have been Chris’s to bat off Stiles’s advance but at the same time Stiles shouldn’t have tried this so soon after the passing of both Chris’s wife and daughter. Well it’s been a few years but it was still a little tactless, trying to touch the man’s dick so soon after his return. But, well, listen there had been extenuating circumstances! It wasn’t like Stiles was like ‘yeah let me fuck this recently widowed man that just lost his daughter, too.’

Except…well, it kind of had been the circumstances. But in a more altruistic form. Like, Stiles really wanted to cheer the guy up and…Fuck he’s just always wanted to fuck Mr. Argent, okay? Sue him, who doesn’t want to fuck him?

But really Stiles’s guilt doesn’t really have any room here. (Or, rather, he really wants that to be true anyway.)

Not when Chris Argent ( _Allison’s father Stiles!_ ) was pressed against his back and two fingers deep in his ass. 

No one was at home which was great because they were in the fucking kitchen. Chris didn’t even seem all that invested, or maybe it was an act, he was instead eating some pasta dish that he had made for dinner with his free hand. And Stiles is kind of getting off on it—how casually Chris is treating this situation (it also kind of assuages his guilt about the whole situation). There’s also a part of him that really wants Chris to be more invested.

“Hey,” he says, voice coming out rougher than he’d been expecting. Chris looks at him out of the side of his eye but continues eating his food, raising the food past Stiles’s head and into his mouth. On top of that, he’s chewing slowly, casually, and humming quietly. Stiles is going to gripe at him until he sees the older man lick his lips and loses his train of thought for a second before groaning and pushing back against Chris’s fingers. 

Christ, Stiles is going to hell. 

Gripping the counter tighter Stiles is almost to the point of begging Chris to get him off. There’s not much of a reason for Chris to be doing this to him, really and it’s making Stiles frustrated.

“Do you,” Stiles pushes back against the fingers again as they push in and barely scathe his prostate and Stiles lets out a high pitched sigh. It takes him a moment to continue on, “Do you want me to call you something, beg you? I just really want to come, man.” Stiles whines petulantly and sags forward, body moving away from Chris’ firm chest (and damn Stiles for missing that warm firmness).

“I don’t want you to do anything, Stiles.” Chris says it with a level voice like what’s happening isn’t happening and Stiles lets out a bitter laugh.

“Okay, then—”

“I think you should be able to come from what I’m giving you now.” Chris says nonchalantly and raises another bite of food to his own mouth.

“Well, that’s obviously not true because I’ve been on the edge so many times. Like, for the past,” Stiles glances at the microwave a few feet away from him, “Jesus Christ, _ten minutes_! C’mon!”

It says something about Stiles’s libido that his dick is still achingly hard and has been the entire time. How? He has no idea, but he’s almost pissed at his body for betraying him like this.

“Or it could be that you’re being ungrateful.” Chris says and sighs, breath ghosting over the back of Stiles’s neck and causing him to shiver. Stiles wants to tell him to fuck off and push him away and just go home and jack himself off. But he really wants Chris to get him off.

“I—” Stiles isn’t really sure what to say to that. “Are you—? Are you being serious right now?” Stiles asks and whips his head around to glare at Chris; he does it a little too fast and he feels like he’s strained his neck a little. Great.

Chris looks back at Stiles with a blank expression and shrugs. He raises another bite of food to his mouth, this one much smaller than the last bite. Stiles turns away from Chris to look down at the plate, it’s empty now; similar to Stiles’ trust in humanity at this point…

“God, you’re acting like I’m not doing you a favour too.” Stiles grumps and raises up on the tips of his toes in order to make it so that the thrusts of Chris’s fingers now angle in such a way that they bump against his prostate a bit more firmly than before. Well, if Stiles has got to stand on his tiptoes until he comes he fucking will.

It’s then that Chris crooks his fingers down on the drag out and applies a lot of pressure to Stiles’s prostate. This causes Stiles’s legs to wobble and he drops back onto the heels of his feet and arches his back forward, planting the upper half of his torso into Chris’s chest. Chris responds by moving his fingers faster in and out of Stiles. He places his fork on the empty plate and presses a hand firmly against Stiles’s chest, holding him there. Stiles won’t even admit to himself that the return of that firmness against his back was sorely missed and tries to angle his face away from Chris so that he can’t see the blush heating up Stiles’s cheeks.

Chris leans in to whisper into Stiles’s ear, “And just what favour are you doing me?” he inquires with a chuckle. “I’m not the one that’s going to get off. You’re not even returning the favour I’m doing you in anyway. You’re just standing here and taking my fingers in your ass.”

Stiles wants to say something back but his brain is having a hard time getting his mouth to cooperate so his lips flail and the only things that come out of his lips are moans and expletives.

“I’m sorry?” Chris asks smugly and that smugness does something to Stiles and his knees wobble again.

Stiles lets out a whine and removes one of his hands from the counter places it over Chris’s and intertwines their fingers. He hears Chris’s breath hitch in his ear and Stiles’s feels a slight ache in his chest because of that small slip in the cocky facade the man had been putting up. It might be guilt for doing what he’s doing but Stiles think it could also be the feeling of similarity that Stiles can feel between the two of them with something as simple as that breath.

The fingers in Stiles’s ass become a bit more persistent and a bit more attentive. They move inside of Stiles one more time and instead of pulling out again they rest against his prostate and rub down onto it firmly; Stiles lets out a loud whine in response and bucks back against the fingers. He sighs in relief when they don’t retreat and then sobs when he’s able to fuck himself back onto them more thoroughly than he had been able to earlier.

“Can I?” Stiles asks in a whisper and moves to grip himself in his free hand. He sees Chris’s eyes stare down his body, eyes filled with hunger and something else that Stiles can’t place with his own lust hazed eyes. Chris doesn’t answer in words but hums something that sounds affirmative and watches Stiles grip himself. 

Earlier when he’d tried to jack himself off Chris had knocked his hand away every time and that had led to Stiles mouthing off to the other man. God, whatever Stiles did he’s going to do it every time they fool around. Stiles doesn’t even care if he’s going to hell at this point, this is the most turned on Stiles has been in his entire life and he definitely wants a repeat performance.

Stiles sets a slow pace at first, revelling in sensation of finally being able to do this. His cock has been leaking precome non-stop throughout this entire affair and his dick is basically encrusted with it; and the head of his dick is lubricated so that he doesn’t have to worry wetting it at all, he’s ready to finally get this over with.

“Faster,” Chris instructs Stiles, returning to fucking his fingers in and out of Stiles’s ass. The man places a kiss against Stiles’s neck and the younger man’s entire body jerks. God, he’s so close. He follows Chris’s instruction and strokes his cock faster, there’s a wet squelching sound that makes Stiles blush brightly and take in a long stuttered breathe. He hadn’t noticed similar noises come from his ass being fingered earlier because, well, he’d been too busy complaining… But now that he could hear all of he couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.

Chris chuckles and nips at his neck.

Now when Chris fucks his fingers into Stiles he makes sure to brush his prostate moving in and out, dragging his fingers harder on the exit than the entrance.

“I—God—fuck.” Stiles says eloquently, panting loudly.

“How close are you?” Chris asks around a chuckle.

“Really,” Stiles replies in a clipped manner racing towards his orgasm.

Chris hums again. “You really are doing me a large favour, Stiles,” Chris starts almost sounding bored. “Coming back to Beacon Hills was hard after all that’s happened here. Seeing all of you was harder, Allison’s friends having changed so much just making it apparent how much time had passed. But damn, did it do you good.” 

Stiles gasped loudly and fell back into Chris’s chest, the other man responded by crowding himself closer to Stiles and pressing him more fully against the counter. 

“You’ve filled out and the second I saw you I wanted you on your knees sucking my cock. Fuck your lips have gotten fuller somehow, or have they always been like that? Either, I could also imagine what you’ve learned over the years; you’ve definitely sucked a few dicks while I was gone, huh?” Stiles didn’t respond immediately but when he got that Chris wanted an answer he nodded furiously let out a small sob and stroking his dick faster.

“God, I knew it. You must look great on your knees, come all over your face. I’ve wanted to make a mess of your face for a while, fuck into your throat and come down it. Maybe have you stick out your tongue when I’m about to come and spill all over it.” This…is a lot and Stiles isn’t sure how much longer he can hold on. There’s a tight coil forming in his stomach and Stiles didn’t think what Chris was saying would help him hold on at all; he didn’t really know why he felt like he should hold on, maybe to hear Chris continue all of his praise of his body—that was probably it.

“And your ass,” Chris accentuated this assertion with a grind of his crotch against Stiles’s ass and Stiles could feel how hard Chris was. Chris’s fingers have stopped thrusting and are now rolling over Stiles’s prostate firmly. _Fuck_. “I’m going to get my cock in there soon,” he says it like a promise, “and I’m going to make you beg me to fuck you hard and fast. You’re going to be calling out my name. You’ll be all sweaty and fucked out and you’ll just babble and come while you’re on my cock. Then I’ll come all over your ass.” The edges of Stiles’s vision are starting to fade out and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to pass out when he comes. 

Chris leans close to Stiles’s and licks the lobe, “Or maybe I’ll fuck my come back in. I could come in your ass and breed you but I think there’s something about rubbing my cock through the come and pushing it in.”

Stiles feels like he’s overheating and can’t respond to Chris but instead breathes in and out quickly, wheezing slightly. This must be what it feels like for Scott to have an asthma attack, it’s so difficult to get his lungs completely full before the air is being forced out of his lungs.

“Would you like that Stiles?” Chris coos into Stiles’s ear and the younger man can’t even bring himself to nod, can only loll his head back onto Chris’s shoulder and pant. Chris notices tears building up in the corners of Stiles’ eyes and kisses his cheeks lightly; Stiles’s eyes flutter shut and he lets out a whine.

“Come on, Stiles, you need to come. Come for me, show me what you look like when you come. Give me a taste of what it’ll be like when I have you on your hands and knees and I’m fucking into you and you come without me even having to touch you. Let me hear you, baby.”

Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because of the term of endearment or because of the dirty talk but he’s finally, _finally_ , coming. He screams and his back bows violently as he comes, ropes shooting across the counter and Stiles is vaguely concerned about having to wipe it up. But his knees go weak and he’s thankful for the strength of the man behind him because he would have fallen and hit his head.

Chris is still fingering Stiles with a look of determination on his face and Stiles lets out a whine as he comes down from the high of his orgasm, overstimulation beginning to set in with the constant pressing against his prostate.

“Mr. Argent,” Stiles whines, trying to wiggle his hips away even as he’s aware he’s flush against the counter. Had he been a little shorter it would have been a less than ideal position to be in, dick being crushed by the counter and all. He giggles at the thought of it.

After a moment Chris nods and draws back from Stiles and pulls his fingers out. “You can call me Chris, if you want,” he says, voice husky and laboured. He’s almost embarrassed about the wetness in the front his pants, coming in his pants like a teenager. But damn if that hadn’t been a beautiful thing to watch…

Stiles catches his breath before nodding at the older man, “Chris.” He says it like a prayer with a small crack to it after having the scream rip up his throat.

Stiles turns around slowly, legs wobbling a little, and faces Chris. He holds the man’s gaze for a second before looking down at the man’s crotch, eyebrows shooting up, almost disappearing in his hairline. He doesn’t look disappointed or anything instead like he’s in awe. “Glad you don’t need any help, actually,” he admits, “I don’t really think I have it in me right now.” Stiles laughs and Chris does too.

Stiles looks into Chris’s eyes again, really looks and finds that other emotion there. And it’s shocking but also a little comforting because he feels it too. 

So Stiles with his dick out, pants around his knees, and ass wet with fucking vegetable oil and Chris looking moderately presentable save for the wetness at the front of his pants share that emotion. They stare into each others eyes and smile at one another.

“So you’re definitely fucking me later, right?” Stiles asks, face serious.

“Definitely,” Chris responds with a smirk.

“Good because I felt it when you were grinding against me and fuck if I don’t get that in me I’ll cry.” Stiles says quickly before licking his lips.

Chris chuckles and moves to put his dish in the sink.

**Author's Note:**

> drop an request over at my [tumblr](http://petershorcrux.tumblr.com/) especially if it's a rarepair bc those are kind of my jam


End file.
